


blood and glitter

by FreshBrains



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Punk, Alternate Universe - Roller Derby, Alternate Universe - Sports, F/F, Fights, First Dates, Foe Yay, Minor Violence, Nicknames, Rollerblades & Rollerskates, Sexist Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 15:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1610876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia Martin, resident Beacon Hills Roller Doll, finds herself fraternizing with one Cora Hale, the new, bloodthirsty member of the She-Wolves, their rival team.  Allison is unimpressed, Stiles is drunk, Kira loves punching people, and Lydia just really, really wants to win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	blood and glitter

“The She-Wolves are a bunch of lousy bitches who can’t block for shit and their names are stupid as hell,” Erica spat, plopping down on the Beacon Hills Community Center locker room bench and chucking her striped helmet cover onto the floor.

“Cut the internalized misogyny and you’re onto something,” Heather said cheerfully.  She wrinkled her nose as Danielle sprayed an arc of Tommy Girl into the moist air.

“Sorry,” Erica muttered.  “But come on.  Kalifornia Killer?  Really?  What kind of roller girl name is that?  It’s like she didn’t even try.  I can’t fucking stand that girl.”  She lifted her leg onto the bench and slapped a half-thawed sack of ice over a growing bruise, courtesy of Kalifornia Killer herself, or Kali if they were out of the rink.

Lydia, their best Jammer, sauntered out of the shower, her hair wrapped in a towel.  “They can’t block, but they know how to bruise without getting penalized.  That counts for something.”  She shook out her hair and gave Erica one of her patented reality-check dagger-glares.  “And in case you forgot, they just creamed us 121 to 67.  I’m pretty sure our own fans were cheering for them by the end.”

“That’s because of Baccari.  She does all the Pivot work, then Kali acts like _she_ won the bout singlehandedly.  God, they suck.”  Erica wasn’t ready to let it go just yet—she spent two years on the She-Wolves and no one ever let her forget it (especially herself).  By the time she shifted alliances to the Beacon Hills Roller Dolls, she couldn’t stand her former team.

Allison picked the wet helmet cover off the floor and tossed it back at Erica, who grimaced.  “Baccari’s a hell of a Pivot, but Kali never puts her in.  She’s useless as a Blocker, but she’s the best skater on the team.  Kali won’t strategize.”  Allison wasn’t the best roller on the team, but she was the unofficial team leader do to her awesome plays.  She reached over into Lydia’s striped tote bag and pulled out her jeans, the ones Lydia always stole and stretched out.

Lydia rolled her eyes, yanking her pink Roller Dolls tee shirt on over her sore, aching body.  “We need to get in the rink more, rent a few more hours a week.  We might have fun out there,” she said, giving Kira, the one who gleefully threw girls off their skates the most, a specifically hard look, “but we sort of suck lately.  The She-Wolves are fucking ruthless.”  If Allison was the leader, Lydia was the captain—her mind for numbers and equations and her endless desire to come out on top kept the team on their toes.

The girls let out a collective groan, Heather collapsing in a mock-swoon in Danielle’s arms.  “Lydia, we already practice six times a week.  I skate circles in my sleep.”

“But not fast enough, I bet,” Lydia quipped.

“And in lousy formation with your dream-teammates,” Allison added, sharing a secret laugh with her best friend.  Heather rolled her eyes, but nodded—Allison and Lydia always knew what to do to keep them a boost.

“From now on, we’re picking up extra hours at the bowling alley to raise some money for rink time,” Lydia said, swinging her tote bag over her bruised shoulder.  “No complaints.”  They waitressed and slung drinks at Beacon Hills Bowling Alley a few times a week for tips as a team.

Lydia would never admit it, but the Roller Dolls were her life, and she was going to beat the She-Wolves before the season ended.

*

“Do you think I was too hard on them?”  Allison asked as she and Lydia strode out of the roller rink to Lydia’s car, their hair still wet, ice packs strapped to their legs and arms.

Lydia rolled her eyes.  “No way, we all need a kick in the ass.  Did you see Danielle block tonight?  Sloppy as hell.  And Kira is lagging on the Pivot, she can’t keep up with the She-Wolves Pivot, the scary tall one—Kate Karnage?  Ugh, what’s with the K-names?”

Allison laughed, shivering a little in the late-summer night air.  The sidewalks were swarmed with the pub crawlers and partiers as well as a few stragglers from the bout. 

“Hey girls, good skating out there!”  Stiles, a slightly drunk and always cheerful regular, called from across the street where he hung off the neck of his burly, dark-haired boyfriend, the one who always cheered the loudest for the team, although his brooding exterior said otherwise.

Lydia cringed—“good skating” was the compliment given when they didn’t win.  “Thanks, Stiles!  Coming next week?”

“Hell yeah,” he called.  “Did you see Derek’s sister on the She-Wolves?”

Allison mock-gasped, pointing her finger accusingly across the intersection.  “Traitor, playing for the other team!  Which one?”

“Tall, skinny, dark hair,” Derek said as Stiles smushed a kiss into his neck.  “She’s a new recruit.  Cora Crusher.  She’ll Jam in the next game.”  Stiles pulled him down the street to Derek’s car, waving goodbye.

Lydia laughed.  “Looks like Julia B is getting the shaft again, poor girl.”

“Cora must be Kali’s new pet.  Come on, let’s get Chinese before we go back to the apartment.  I need something greasy and unhealthy while I wallow in my self-pity.”  Allison hopped into the passenger seat.

“Sounds perfect,” Lydia answered.

*

“Okay, I have an idea,” Lydia said, swiping sweat off her forehead beneath her helmet.  They were halfway through the bout and the girls were getting their asses handed to them by the She-Wolves again.  “I’ll be Jammer for this one.  Allison will pivot.  Erica, Danielle, Heather, and Kira will block, and they’ll be vicious.”

Kira pumped her fist in the air, stretching a star-printed helmet cover on over her black helmet, chomping down on her mouth guard.  “No mercy for that skinny brunette, she’s a wicked one,” she said, garbled through the plastic.

Lydia craned her neck away from the metal chairs of the sidelines, taking a peek at the other team.  While the Roller Dolls were maroon and white, like the high school, the She-Wolves were black and red, much more menacing, and covered in tattoos and piercings.  The Roller Dolls were the fun team, the wild ones in town, the ones covered in glitter and spandex and sweat, the ones who danced the best at parties and drank the boys under the table.  They didn’t mix with the She-Wolves, who hung out at dive bars and warehouse parties, getting into trouble.

It was like high-school rivalries all over again, only with much more skating and body-slamming.

“Are you sure I should do Pivot?”  Allison crouched on her white, sticker-covered skates, out of breath.  Isaac, her boyfriend, tossed her a bottle of water from the metal chairs across the team, and she smiled tiredly. 

Lydia swallowed, an eye still trained on the new girl.  She looked too small to be a roller girl, too skinny and bony, not enough meat to knock a girl down, but she looked as bad as the other Wolves—red streaks in her hair, snake-bite piercings on her lips, and a black tattoo of three connected spirals on each forearm.  Her black tee shirt read CORA CRUSHER in bold red paint, dripping to look like blood.  “I have a feeling they’re going to put Kali on Pivot, and you’re small enough to slide past her.  It’ll be a good match.”

Allison nodded.  “Sounds good, boss.  All in, everyone!”  They circled up and shoved their sweaty, glittery, temporary-tattooed arms in the center, whooping for their arm.

Lydia felt a sudden flare of love for her girls—god, she loved them.

The decent-sized crowd cheered as they formed up, Lydia behind the blockers, getting ready to Jam.  A lithe body rolled up next to hers, close enough for their arms to touch, and Lydia spied black ink curling on pale skin.  She glanced over, and a foxlike face peered at her.

“Let’s go, Red,” Cora said, reaching over and twirling a stray frizzy curl coming out of Lydia’s helmet around her index finger, too quick for Lydia to even swat her away.

The bout started, and Lydia snapped back into focus, speeding ahead on her skates.

When she was little, Lydia never roller-skated—she was more the type to play with dolls and tea-sets than play outdoors.  But when she met Allison and Kira in high school and started realizing she liked girls a little more than boys, she needed an outlet, something fast and hard and free of male pressure and testosterone to get her blood flowing.

So when she and her friends turned eighteen, they tried out for the Roller Dolls, and Lydia found out she was a born leader in whatever she tried.

As Lydia plowed through the first two black-and-red She-Wolf blockers, she never felt more energized, more confident.  She passed two easily, two new girls, and shouldered past the next few, coming out as Lead Jammer only inches in front of Cora.

“Won’t get me that easy,” Cora growled, zooming past Lydia on her black skates with red laces, her red-streaked hair flowing out from beneath her helmet (a dangerous move).  Lydia huffed and charged harder, thighs burning already, elbows pumping. 

“Looks like I will,” Lydia said breezily, trying to keep her breathing steady as she checked smoothly past Cora.  She really wanted to yank a handful of hair, but that would be a penalty for sure.  As she passed, she noticed the toned muscles of Cora’s calves, the defined slope of her back—she was strong for her size.  Lydia slowed a bit as she came to the Blocking Pack again, ready to score. 

Danielle and Erica steeled up like walls, ready to keep Cora out, and Lydia moved past the first two She-Wolf blockers, taking an accidental elbow to the stomach, which knocked the wind out of her—but there was no way she was calling a penalty.

“Come on, come on,” she heard Allison cheer from the front of the pack, always on-edge and ready to win.  Lydia smiled and pushed past another blocker, scoring another point, and then a slim body slammed into her _hard_ from the side and sent her careening towards the side of the rink.

“Sucks to suck,” Cora growled, and for extra kicks, skated up next to Lydia as she rolled away and popped her again in the hip.  Before Lydia could get her balance, she blew past the rink markings and plowed into a bay of metal folding chairs, toppling at least six spectators, including Stiles and Derek.

“Cora, what the _hell_?” Derek yelled as his sister rolled away, laughing evilly. 

“It’s not a penalty,” Lydia grumbled, her helmet cover sliding over her eyes and her knee pad twisted around her leg.  Stiles helped her up in a clatter of metal.  “She checked me fair and square.”  She slid back into the rink, shaking off her bruised limbs, and sped up.

The fall gave her a shot of adrenaline, and soon, she ahead of Cora again, resuming her worthy position of Lead Jammer.

“Call it, call it!”  Allison and Erica both yelled from the Blocker Pack as Cora gained momentum, coming up on Lydia again.  Lydia was feeling good, powerful, and as she felt Cora’s strong presence behind her, all she wanted to do was throw her opponent down on the dirty rink floor and bite into her, muss her up, show her a _real_ wolf.  Derby always brought out the animal in her.

Instead, she brought her palms down on her hips and the Referee blew the whistle for the Jam.  The rollers all skidded to a halt—the Roller Girls won that Jam, but not by much.  Before they could all skate back to their respective sides of the rink, Kira whipped off her helmet and shoved Cora hard by the shoulders.  “You could’ve broken Lydia’s fucking neck, you psycho!”

Cora just laughed, backing up in her skates, but then Kali shoved her aside and popped Kira hard in the jaw—and all hell broke loose.

Finstock, their long-suffering and endlessly stressed Referee, threw his hands in the air and let his whistle drop to his chest.  “I’m not getting involved in this,” he yelled to the spectators, who cheered as Allison threw Kali to the floor, skates flying high in the air.  Erica plowed into Julia at the waist and they slid towards the edge of the rink, knocking over chair like bowling pins.

Lydia sighed and sat down—when fighting on that scale broke out, the bout was over, and there was no winner.

*

“A round for our fearless Lydynamite,” Allison said, a tray of neon-colored shots held over her head as she neared their table in the corner of the bowling alley bar.  Two wads of red-tinged Kleenex were stuffed up her nostrils, and an ice pack was duct-taped to her wrist.

The team cheered and let out a collective groan at their respective aches and pains—sprained ankle for Danielle, bruised jaw and chipped tooth for Kira, a hell of a goose egg for Allison, and various bumps and bruises all over everyone. 

Lydia wound her arm around Kira’s skinny shoulder, careful of her swollen face.  “Thanks for throwing a punch for me, Foxy.  You’re a good one to have on a team.”

Kira smiled sweetly, baring her new chipped tooth that she wore like a badge of honor.  “I have your back, fearless leader.  I’ve always wanted to knock that bitch to the ground.”

“Misogyny,” Heather chided with a sigh, and Kira saluted an apology before downing a shot with a grimace.

“I’m glad I got a swing in at Baccari,” Erica said into her glass of beer, looking no worse for wear.  “She never used to stand up for me when Kali would get on my ass.  I can’t believe I lasted so long on that team.”

“Because you were the best,” a man said from behind, looping his arm over Erica’s chest and kissing her on her the top of her blonde head.

“Uh oh, the boys have arrived,” Erica said, grinning up at Boyd, who bore a proud Roller Girls temporary tattoo on his large bicep.  Stiles, Derek, Isaac, and Scott followed behind, yanking out chairs to huddle in with the girls.

“Hell yeah, shots!” Scott plopped down next to Kira, pressing a kiss to her cheek before stealing her next lime Jell-O shot.  He choked a little, eyes wide.  “Whoa, sweetie, you’re looking a little swollen.” He motioned his hands around his face.

“She was defending my honor, you should reward her,” Lydia said, downing her first shot, feeling the woozy burn already.  After a fight like that, the only thing she wanted to do was get drunk, beat Stiles at pool, and go home to watch a trashy movie with Allison.

Scott raised his glass, grinning at Lydia.  “To Lydia, who was knocked down by Cora Hale but will get up to fight again.”

Derek raised his glass.  “I’ll drink to that.  Cora was always the menace of the family.”

Lydia smiled and accepted her toast before proceeding to get excellently, spectacularly wasted.

*

“Looking good, Dynamite.”  A smooth, husky voice came from the side of the bowling alley against the brick wall.

Lydia whirled around, bracing herself in Allison’s arms.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.  This isn’t your side of town.”  Lydia would be lying if she said she didn’t have a little _Outsiders_ fantasy since she was a kid.

Cora held up her hands, a smirk outlining her lips.  “I’m here to apologize.  I was out of line.”  She stubbed a cigarette out against the brick and crushed it beneath her black leather combat boot.  A set of fangs was painted on the toe.

“Hell yeah, you were,” Allison slurred, stumbling towards Cora.  “You almost…you almost hurt my friend, and you’re…you’re _dumb,_ that’s what you are.”  Lydia wondered briefly how Allison would look if she was drunk on skates and decided it was absolutely hilarious, but she was in the middle of some sort of derby turf battle and the giggles would have to wait.

Lydia pulled Allison back.  “No, she played it fair.  Hip checks are good.  And Miss Hips of Steel over here knows how to use them.”  In the dark, Lydia made out Cora’s bare, pale arms, striped and dotted here and there in curls of ink, legs long in short denim cut-offs.  She looked just as bad-ass out of the rink as she did inside. 

Allison pointed a drunk, accusing finger at Cora, brow furrowed in righteous anger.  “We’ll get you next time, She-Wolf.”

Isaac tumbled out of the bowling alley, wrapping his arm around Allison’s waist.  He didn’t drink, so his job as Best Boyfriend Ever meant getting his wobbly roller girl home safe after a post-bout bender. “Whoa, let’s get you home, drunky.  Lydia, need a ride?”

Just as Lydia was about to send one last dagger-glare at Cora and accept the offer, Cora came out from the shadows and tossed Lydia a black motorcycle helmet.  “I’ll get her home.”

Lydia looked at the offending object.  “Why the hell would I let you take me home?”

Cora shrugged, mouth quirked in a smirk that sent her lip piercings glinting in the dim streetlamp light.  “We’re a couple of derby girls high on adrenaline after some bumps and bruises, and I have a motorcycle.  What else do you want?”

Lydia pondered for a moment, tottering on her pink velvet high heels.  “You make a fair point.  But how do I know this isn’t a trick and Kalifornia Killer isn’t around the corner ready to shank my ass?”

“Don’t fraternize with the enemy, Lydia,” Allison whisper-yelled, sagging in Isaac’s arms.

Cora rolled her eyes, a lovely feat reminiscent of the way Derek often looked at Stiles.  “Kali couldn’t hurt you if I blindfolded you and gave her a chainsaw.  She’s all bark, no bite.”

“That’s an awful sweet way to talk about your teammate.”  Lydia wasn’t exactly on her A-game, but she was sensing some animosity between Cora and the She-Wolves.

Cora tipped her chin down the alley where she presumably parked her bike.  “How about you let me give you a ride and we’ll talk about it?”

“Come on, Lydia, this one is about to bail on me,” Isaac said, supporting an extremely floppy Allison on his hip, her limbs splayed like a rag doll’s.  “You coming or not?”

Lydia looked back at Cora, tall and cool in the dark, and looked down at the helmet—her hair was frazzled and her makeup was smeared in the reflection; she looked exactly like a person who spent an evening rolling around and getting into tussles.  She looked back to Isaac.  “Get Allison home.  I’ll go with Crusher.”

“Your funeral,” Allison called with a hiccup, and when Lydia turned to Cora, her smile was vicious.

“I may vomit on you,” Lydia said calmly, yanking the helmet on over her head.

Cora shrugged, reaching out for Lydia’s hand.  “I’ve gone through worse.”

*

Once they were on Cora’s motorcycle, Lydia was glad that the wind and engine made it impossible to hear anything, because all she wanted to do was smell Cora’s salty-sweet sweat on the back of her next and cup her small breasts from behind.  She refrained from doing the latter and only did a little of the former.

“Ever been on one before?”  Cora’s voice was practically a scream over the cool night air as they stopped at an intersection.

“Nope,” Lydia yelled back.  _You’re popping my motorcycle cherry_.

As the light turned green, Cora revved back up, and Lydia hung on tighter, fingers squeezing Lydia’s dark leather jacket.  When they passed the street that went to Lydia’s apartment, Lydia felt her stomach drop a little, until Cora yelled back, “I’m taking you out.”

Lydia smiled and pressed her face between Cora’s shoulder blades, cumbersome helmet be damned.

*

Two a.m. pancakes are simply the best pancakes, especially when they’re smeared in caramel and honey and syrup and piled with blueberries and chocolate chips.  Lydia ordered a short stack, a side of bacon, and a carafe of coffee.

Cora looked on with one raised eyebrow.  “Give me the same,” she said to the waitress, smiling politely.  “Please.”

Lydia leaned in towards Cora, her legs sticking to the vinyl of the diner booth.  “I’m trying to keep it on the DL, but I am still _massively_ drunk.”

Cora smiled and bit her lip.  “I think the six-cavity pancake order gave it away.”

Lydia shrugged and slumped back into the booth.  “You’re like a grandma.  Taking me to a little diner on a date.  You’re cute.”

Cora snorted, fiddling with the sugar packets.  “This isn’t a date yet.  I’m sobering you up for the real date later.”

Lydia wanted to question Cora’s motives, but she was distracted by the incoming late-night breakfast, face lighting up as the server slid a heap of steaming carbs onto her place mat.  As she dug in, she said, “I’m still pretty sure this is some kind of trick.”

Cora rolled her eyes for the hundredth time.  “If we wanted to trick you guys, we’d steal Silver Bullet’s little black playbook she keeps in her tote bag on her chair.”

Lydia bristled, chewing a mouthful of pancakes.  “Her name is Allison outside the rink.  And wow, I guess you know all our moves now that you’ve figured out we have a _playbook_.  We’re simply ruined.”

Much to Lydia’s surprise, Cora laughed, and not in a mean, snotty She-Wolf way—a real, crinkle-eyed way that lit up her black-rimmed eyes.  “We’re masterminds.  We know all your little secrets.”  Her face smoothed out and she nibbled at her food much less forcefully than Lydia devoured hers.  “I heard one of your girls used to roll for us.”

Lydia nodded.  “Yeah, Erica.  She’s sort of always been a Roller Doll, you know?  In spirit.”  Lydia got even more philosophical than usual when tipsy, but with every bite of food, she felt herself sobering up and questioning her life choices.

Cora fiddled with her napkin, crumpling it into little pieces.  “Did she ever tell you why she switched?”

Lydia grimaced, recalling the colorful ways Erica described the She-Wolves.  “Not exactly, but I have a feeling it has something to do with Kali.”

Cora sighed, face twisted in a sour expression.  “That’s not exactly surprising.  I sort of hooked up with Kali awhile back when I was in high school and she was in college.  When she asked me to roll for the She-Wolves, I was pretty pumped, but then…”  She trailed off, cheeks heating a little.

Lydia wanted to reach across the table and hold Cora’s hand, but she refrained.  “Kali and Julia have sort of a weird relationship.”

“Yeah, I found that out the hard way.  Even when they’re not together, they’re still _together_.”  Cora took a cranky sip of her coffee.  “But I like rolling.  I’m good at it, so I can’t quit.”

Lydia nodded slowly.  She took another bite of her food, but she was getting full, and her head was clearer.  “So where are you taking me tonight, Crusher?”

Cora grinned, smile wicked and cunning on her foxlike face.  “Let’s get back on that bike and I’ll take you there.”

*

“What.  The hell.  Is this,” Lydia intoned, stepping gingerly off the bike, her post-bout heels grinding against the dirty parking-lot gravel.  A stream of couples (teenagers and adults alike) flowed into the ancient, crumbling brick building, outfitted with a pink and purple neon sign that read _Greenberg’s Bowling and Rolling_.  “You didn’t seriously bring a roller girl to the roller rink, did you?”

Cora laughed and swing her body off the bike, shorts riding up high on her pale thighs.  “What, too sweet for you, Dynamite?  Need a little more boom?”  She flashed her hands out at Lydia like she was going to smack her one, but instead wound an arm around her waist.  “It’ll be fun.”

Lydia rolled her eyes and followed Cora into the building.  “I should’ve just stayed drunk for this.”  Once they were inside, Lydia was assaulted by a techno rendition of “Barbie Girl,” the pink and green flashing lights of ancient arcade games, the thump of bowling balls hitting the lanes, and the unmistakable grainy slide of wheels on a track.

Cora wound her arm through Lydia’s, a surprisingly sweet gesture.  “Too bad you left your skates with Silver Bullet.  Looks like we’ll have to rent.”

Lydia grimaced, but enjoyed the feeling of Cora’s skin against her own.  “I was expecting something a little more…daring.  You know, since you’re a She-Wolf and all.”

Cora pulled Lydia to the rental desk, where she rented two pair of the ugliest, clunkiest lime green skates Lydia had ever seen.  “Trust me.  We’re just getting started.”

*

Lydia wasn’t used to skating without having her guard up.  She was used to pumping her arms and legs, keeping her eyes and ears open, biting down on her mouth-guard while metal music played in the static-clogged overhead speakers.  She would never admit it out loud, especially to the Roller Dolls, but rolling in the teeny-bopper oval rink to pop music was pretty damn fun.

“This song is awesome,” Lydia said, clutching onto Cora’s hand as they rounded the rink.  She was still a little wobbly and the loose pre-Clinton skates weren’t helping.  She had a feeling it was a smooth tactic on Cora’s part, hobbling her like that, but she didn’t have it in her to complain.

“It’s Britney,” Cora said with a snort, surreptitiously lacing their fingers together.  “How have you never heard this before?”  Kids skated past them; the rink smelled like feet and sweat and girly body spray.

Lydia shrugged, which was actually sort of hard to do on skates.  “I grew up on classical and the derby girls only listen to rock and metal on the track.  Sue me.”

As they hit one bend of the track, Cora slid an arm around Lydia’s waist like they were a teenage couple on the world’s most chaste, old-fashioned skating date.  They were skilled enough skaters to move in tandem with each other, Cora slightly behind Lydia, her breath warm on Lydia’s neck.  “You’re a strange chick, Lydia.”

Lydia smiled, biting her lip, before spinning them around smoothly and taking both of Cora’s hands in her own.  “Let’s do one of those spinny things they do in movies.” 

Cora gripped her hands and they spun an easy circle together, like two girlfriends on the playground, laughing the entire time.  “What kind of movies are you even watching?” Cora asked, pulling Lydia close.

Lydia wrapped her arms around Cora’s neck, not caring that they were practically stalled in the rink.  “The best ones, obviously.”

Cora brushed a lock of Lydia’s sweaty hair behind her ear, leaned in, and gave Lydia the most spectacularly cheesy 70’s-style roller-rink kiss she ever had (and ever would have again).

*

“I’m pretty sure I have athlete’s foot from those skates,” Lydia complained as she hopped off Cora’s motorcycle, shoes in hand. 

“Whine, whine,” Cora deadpanned, taking Lydia’s helmet.  “Can I walk you up?”

Lydia ran a finger down Cora’s arm, smiling when goose bumps burst on her skin.  “As much as I want you to fuck me in my bed, I’m not sure Allison would appreciate the company.”

Cora’s eyes darkened, but she bit her lip and nodded.  “Give me a call sometime.  I’ll take you out again.”

“We should probably be secret girlfriends.  I’ve always wanted one,” Lydia said, glancing back at Cora, who mounted her bike again.

“Same,” Cora agreed, and smiled before pulling her helmet off and riding away.

Lydia leaned against the door and played with a strand of her hair like a lovesick teenager.  “I can’t wait to kick that beautiful woman’s ass in the rink next week,” she said dreamily before letting herself into the apartment.

*

“Okay,” Allison said breathlessly as she huddled the team together.  Lydia quickly tucked a stray lock of Allison’s wild hair back into her helmet.  “We’re going to try this again.  I’ll pivot, Lydia will jam.  Blockers, you know who you are.  Are we ready for this?”

They were tied, 20-20, and Baccari and Kali already had two fights in the rink.  The She-Wolves were falling apart.  Lydia glanced over at their side of the rink and caught Cora’s eye.  Cora shot her the middle finger and winked; Lydia blew her a kiss.  “We’re ready.  Let’s do this.  Quick group hug, I love you all.”

Everyone squished together for a hug.  “I would love you so much more if you weren’t screwing the opponent,” Erica cooed, smacking a kissing in Lydia’s cheek.

“You’re just jealous,” Lydia said, sliding on her helmet cover.  “All in, girls.”

Lydia got in formation and felt a hand in her hair, stroking her red curls again.  She turned to see Cora skate next to her.  “How you feeling tonight, Dynamite?”

Lydia smiled sweetly.  “Feeling strong, Crusher.  You?”

Cora grinned and tugged up the sleeve of her black tee shirt to reveal a temporary tattoo.  It was two sticks of dynamite, their fuses lit, set behind a big red heart.  “Ready to kick your pert little ass.  Let’s do this, Red.”

Finstock blew the whistle, and the bout began.

**Author's Note:**

> So, as a member of the university feminist club, it seems I am now a huge roller derby fan. I am by no means an expert, but here is a quick rundown of roller derby, courtesy of the Sioux Falls Roller Dollz bout pamphlet:
> 
> Jammers have stars on their helmets, Pivots have stripes, and the Blockers skate in a pack. One round of Derby is called a Jam. Jams last two minutes and go like this: The Blocker Pack skates around the track, and the Pivots set the pace. The Jammers start behind everyone and must skate through the Pack to score. Points are counted starting with the second pass through the Pack: 1 point for each opposing blocker passed.
> 
> The first Jammer through the Pack (while staying in bounds) is dubbed the Lead Jammer. The Lead Jammer can call off the Jam to keep the other team from scoring. She places her hands on her hips to signal the Referee to end the Jam. 
> 
> Body checking from the front or side is allowed, but penalties include hitting, tripping, grabbing clothing, pushing, elbowing, and abusing the Referee.
> 
> Update 5/27/14: The amazing [lizleminem](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lizleminem/pseuds/lizleminem)/[allisonyukimura](http://allisonyukimura.tumblr.com/) made this [gorgeous edit](http://allisonyukimura.tumblr.com/post/87054865848/teen-wolf-au-cora-lydia-roller-derby-au-inspired) inspired by this fic and her love for roller derby on Tumblr. <3


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